Mỳ Quảng’s reputation has spread across Vietnam and even abroad, yet few are well-informed about its origin story and the land it hailed from.
Editor's note: This article uses “mỳ Quảng,” the common way Central Vietnamese refers to the beloved noodle dish.
Mỳ Quảng, the Hội An port and a link to the world’s noodle map
From the 16th to 18th century, Hội An was once a busy and prosperous maritime trade center in Đàng Trong, under the lordship of the Nguyễn Dynasty. At the time, ships from all over the globe commingled in Hội An to exchange goods and services. Chinese merchants brought with them techniques to make fresh noodles and dumplings, while Japanese artisans introduced udon and soba to the seaport.
Central Vietnamese during the period managed to learn how to make noodles from traveling merchants and adapted the technique to local ingredients, such as rice flour. Hội An noodles, therefore, turned out to be more supple with a gentle rice fragrance.
The result was “Quảng Nam mian” or “mỳ Quảng.” Spelling “mỳ” with a “y” instead of “i” is a Quảng Nam quirk. Locals use the difference to distinguish between noodles made of wheat (mì) and of rice (mỳ). From a mix of East Asian techniques and local produce, mỳ Quảng has turned into a Quảng Nam staple, beloved both at home and wherever Quảng Nam residents migrate to.
Mỳ Quảng Phú Chiêm
Even right at its home region of Central Vietnam, there are a number of notable variations such as Đại Lộc-style chicken mỳ Quảng, Kỳ Lý style in Tam Kỳ, Đà Nẵng style, and, of course, Hội An style. Phú Chiêm style, however, is one of the most well-known editions that has transcended the region.
It hails from Phú Chiêm Village, Điện Bàn Commune in the former Quảng Nam Province, the quaint community known for traditional noodle-making artisans. Throughout history, every day, hundreds of vendors travel on foot to sell freshly made noodles to eaters in Hội An, Tam Kỳ, and Đà Nẵng. The contrast between their petite frames and the heavy load of noodles they carry on bamboo yokes always surprises me, not to mention their unique street calls promoting mỳ Phú Chiêm.
During the unearthly hours when the sun is still deep in slumber and chilly winds tease the skin, houses in Phú Chiêm Village are already lit and steamy. Household members, efficient like parts of a machine, are busy setting up packs of noodles to be delivered when regional buses make their first trips of the day, each person taking a task: making a fire to heat up the pot of flavoring sauce, dividing the sauce in tight bottles, and prepping bags of toppings, noodles, garnishes, fresh herbs, rice crackers, lime wedges, etc.
Around 3am, the pitch black village roads are clamoring with motorbikes heading to the national expressway. The bus careens to a stop, and everybody starts loading the goods on. This is the main means of transport for noodles vendors to travel to the city and town centers to sell mỳ Quảng.
Mỳ Quảng Phú Chiêm is rustic but memorable. It starts with a ladle of steamy broth, wafting a sweet aroma of crab paste and củ nén in the air. In the bowl rests a bundle of pearly white noodles, tender and soft from the rice grown right along the Thu Bồn River. Peanut oil, củ nén, a touch of smokiness from the rice husk kindle tablets at the noodle workshop — every smell sings of local flares. On top of the noodles are slices of caramel-colored pork belly, simmered quail eggs, and scarlet shrimps. The warm broth ties everything together with its seafood-forward essence.
The best bowls of Phú Chiêm noodles are eaten alongside greens grown at Trà Quế Village, or a smattering of wild plants picked straight from the yard, like baby chards, bean shoots, culantro, cilantro, banana blossoms, etc. Their freshness contrasts with the crunchy, nutty roast peanuts and shards of crackers. Depending on how one likes their noodles, a number of condiments are on offer to boost up the flavors, including lime, chili jam, and fish sauce.
The adventures of mỳ Quảng in distant lands
Whenever a Quảng native relocates to a new land, they carry along a strong bond with home, so it’s no surprise that mỳ Quảng will eventually show up in Quảng enclaves across major cities in Vietnam. Finding ingredients that match the classic version of mỳ Quảng is always a tough task, so cooks often incorporate whatever nature offers them at new locations to produce regional varieties of mỳ Quảng. Along the coast, seafood like prawns, crabs, fish, squids, and jellyfish are popular. Further inland, pork, beef, chicken, and duck are more prevalent. In places where paddy fields make up the main biome, you will witness the inclusion of baby clams, eels, frogs, and snakeheads. It is thanks to Vietnam’s biodiversity that has greatly contributed to the local adaptations of mỳ Quảng.
In Nha Trang, for one, mỳ Quảng is both seafood-forward and decadent thanks to the addition of coconut milk. Southerners visiting this coastal city might mistake it for hủ tiếu, as the noodles are yellow, dry, and chewy like those in hủ tiếu mì. The protein toppings include pork, quail eggs, and slices of golden fried fish cakes. The most distinctive feature, still, is the broth: apart from the usual umami from simmered bone, the main flavor is nuttiness and richness from coconut milk and egg, respectively. Moreover, Nha Trang’s mỳ Quảng is enjoyed with lots of water soup broth, instead of Hội An’s minimal but concentrated seasoning sauce. The Nha Trang version is accompanied by roasted peanuts, lettuce, bean sprouts, and herbs.
Even though Phan Thiết is also a coastal province, the mỳ Quảng that emerges from here is famous for its duck and pork usage. Most surprisingly, there are two prominent styles that are equally appreciated in the local food scene: one leans closer to the Hội An style, often eaten in the mountain areas of Đức Linh and Tánh Linh; the other has flares from the South-Central Coast, best known as mỳ Quảng Phan Thiết.
Two types of noodles are used for mỳ Quảng in Phan Thiết: a rice-based noodle akin to phở and a wheat-based noodle. It’s believed that the latter arose in the local cuisine thanks to the culinary influence of Chinese immigrants in Central Vietnam in the early decades of the 20th century.
The seasoning sauce in mỳ Quảng here is brightly vermillion from annatto oil. Phan Thiết also enjoys mỳ Quảng with a bowl that’s filled to the rim with broth. Topping-wise, there are pork knuckles, thighs, and duck legs that are braised until tender. On top, each bowl is garnished with peanuts, chili jam, lettuce, diếp cá (fish mint), and húng lủi (water mint).
Away from the sea, mỳ Quảng also follows Central Vietnam immigrants to the hilly neighborhoods of Đà Lạt. There, mỳ Quảng has also become a part of the tourist food trail.
In Đà Lạt, the broth extracts its main flavors from tubers and dry shrimps. First, the shrimps are ground finely and stir-fried with alliums, then cooked with jicama, onion, carrot, chayote, and daikon to produce the stock. On top of the noodles are pork slices, lettuce, rice crackers, and peanuts.
Hitch-hiking with Central Vietnam immigrants, mỳ Quảng spread across Vietnam and settled down with numerous adaptations depending on what nature offers regionally and the palate of local eaters. Wherever it ends up, however, doesn’t change its core identity — human connection. Central Vietnamese rarely eat mỳ Quảng alone. If they’re heading outside for mỳ Quảng, a few friends are almost always tagging along, and if someone decides to make it at home, the result will be a giant vat enough to feed a small crew.
